


and the road home is paved in star chasers' requiem

by i_was_human



Category: Lost in Translation (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Amputation, Angel Wings, Angels are Dicks, Angst, Fallen Angels, Gen, M/M, Mild Blood, No beta we die like mne, Sensory Deprivation, Solitary Confinement, Wings, dongsung are wholesome your honor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:07:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28556607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_was_human/pseuds/i_was_human
Summary: Rumor has it that if an angel tears off their wings and casts themselves into hell, the first Fallen will catch them before they hit the ground and loosen one more obsidian arrow into Heaven's gates.As with all rumors, this has never been confirmed.
Relationships: Kang Dongho | D.Min/Lee Minsung, Lee Minsung & Moon Kyunghun
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	and the road home is paved in star chasers' requiem

_Did you know when the Demon King was first captured, he had done nothing wrong?_

_After his father's death, he met to discuss a restructuring of Heaven and Hell with the Archangels, and instead of listening to him, they threw him away to rot in the deepest, darkest dungeon._

* * *

Minsung sighs, reaching up to fiddle with his jacket once more. "How do I look?"

"Very dangerous," Kyunghun drawls, reaching over to pat his head. "Very demon-y. Such wow."

"Great," Minsung grins, pushing his hair back into a small ponytail. "I'll be back soon, Kyunghun-ah!"

"Don't die," Kyunghun drawls, turning his attention back to the books in front of him. "Good luck, Minsung-hyung."

Minsung grins at him and heads for the door, screwing his eyes shut as a fresh wave of heat blasts in his face. 

Hell is always warm.

Is it odd to say he likes that?

He heads through the fields to the distant stairs, lips curled into a gentle smile as his fingers skim over the deep red grass. He can see distant blue flames out of the corner of his eye, can see a group of souls planting a new field of pomegranates, can see a pair of demons chatting against a tree, and _oh_ , he loves it here.

And yet.

There are _so many souls_ here that don't deserve to be. There are _so many souls_ that committed no crime save loving someone or being themselves, _so many souls_ that deserve far better than an eternity of rehabilitation and therapy. 

That's why Minsung's going to Heaven.

He stares up at the stairs for a moment, taking in the gleaming marble and golden banisters, and before he can second-guess himself, he starts to climb. 

Somehow, he has the feeling that this won't go well.

By the time he steps onto manicured grass, the stairs have dissolved behind him, and he stares down at the distant splotches of color that he calls home, a bit of longing washing over him.

 _Damn,_ he loves his home.

"Minsung-ssi," someone greets, and Minsung turns, only to be met with the points of dozens of swords.

Oh.

Oh, no.

* * *

_And there he stayed for millions upon millions of years._

* * *

Minsung still isn't home.

Kyunghun stares up at the distant sky, hoping against hope that _this_ will be the moment that a staircase spirals through the starry sky, that _this_ will be the moment Minsung returns, that _this-_

"He's still not home?"

Kyunghun shakes his head, and Minsoo sighs, plopping down on the ground next to him.

"...wonder what's taking him so long?"

"Probably got caught up in reform," Kyunghun lies, and Minsoo nods. "He'll be back soon."

From the look on Minsoo's face, the younger demon doesn't believe him.

Kyunghun can relate. He doesn't believe himself either.

He's not sure how long they sit there, sulfur-filled breezes tugging at their hair and the stars twinkling above, but at some point, Youngjoon comes to sit next to him, black hair waving around his face and sword still in its sheath.

"...he's still not home?"

Minsoo shakes his head, the motion dislodging a few dark strands from under his beanie. "Where is he...?"

"He probably got held up," Kyunghun repeats, the lie burning his tongue. "That's it."

That has to be it.

They sit there for eons, then, Taeseok and Hyunjin finally coming to join them at some point. They just sit there - the five people left in charge of Hell - and say nothing, lest it shatter the fragile string of hope that ties them together.

Minsung has to come home.

He just has to.

* * *

_In the meantime, Heaven imposed its own sanctions on Hell. It took agency away from their leaders and chose what was a crime for them, instead of letting Hell chose its own punishments as it had for so long._

* * *

"How _dare you_?"

Kyunghun grips the handle of his sword as tightly as he can, leveling the Archangels in front of him with a murderous glare. "How _dare you_ use Minsung-hyung as leverage?"

The lead Archangel smiles, saccharine and cloying, and Kyunghun drops into a battle stance, fury bubbling in his core. "Let him _go_!"

"So savage," the lead Archangel hums, taking a step closer. "And here I was interested in parley."

"You...!"

"Adhere to our terms," the lead Archangel hums, "and you might see your beloved king back someday. If not, then... well."

The Archangel's gaze shifts to Minsoo, and Kyunghun growls, grip tightening impossibly further on his sword.

"Don't you _dare_ touch him."

A few of the other Archangels titter among themselves, and Kyunghun _knows_ his eyes have gone black, _knows_ his hair's burst into flames, but he's far beyond giving a shit.

"So savage," the lead Archangel repeats, and Kyunghun growls once more.

"Let Minsung-hyung go."

"Not if you don't adhere to our terms."

The Archangel tosses a book across the space, and Kyunghun watches as it slides across the title to rest at his feet. "There are our terms."

"..."

He doesn't have much of a choice, does he?

As Minsung's advisor, he outranks everyone else here. He's the one in charge.

He has to say yes.

"...fine."

The Archangel grins, his smile turning from sweet into something _murderous_ , and Kyunghun has the feeling he's just made a horrible, horrible mistake.

* * *

_And so the Demon King rotted, and his kingdom with it._

* * *

It's dark in Heaven's prison.

Minsung's chained up far too tightly to move, and not a single ray of light makes it into his darkened cell. 

There's nothing.

There's nothing but him, his thoughts, and the never-ending dark.

Darkness doesn't bother Minsung as much as it would an angel, in all honesty. Perhaps it's because he's a demon - or perhaps it's from his love of the night - but it keeps some of the endless panic at bay.

And yet millions upon millions of years can break even the strongest of souls, and Minsung's never been strong.

The only thing that keeps his rapidly-encroaching catatonia at bay is the thought of _home_. Home - home with the multicolored fields and the bright fire and his friends and his brother. Home, where it's warm instead of cold, where it's soft instead of hard, where it's kind instead of cruel.

Isn't it funny that Heaven would be this cruel?

Minsung clings to his memories in the deep deep deep dark, runs over his fading memories of Kyunghun and Youngjoon and Hyunjin and Taeseok and Minsoo as often as he can, and _oh_ , he's forgetting their faces, their voices, the things they've done and promises they've made, but there's _nothing_.

Nothing but the dark.

There was more than the dark, once. He had hopes and dreams and desires once.

But the darkness tears him apart, stomps him into the dirt and keeps him there, and _fuck_ , what's the point of trying when he's never going to escape? What's the point of trying when he's stuck here _forever_ -

keys.

Keys in the lock.

He raises his head slowly, unused muscles protesting at the movement, but _oh_ , the door's creaking open, a faint ray of light spilling into the room, and _oh, no_.

It's not Kyunghun. It's not Kyunghun or Youngjoon or Minsoo.

It's an angel.

* * *

_All of this - until the first Fallen found him._

* * *

"Are you sure?"

Dongho nods, reaching up to push another strand of blond hair out of his face. "Yeah."

"But..." Jaewon flails, evidently at a loss for words. "This is _illegal_."

"Mhm."

"You could get _executed_!"

"Mhm."

"Why?"

Dongho turns at that, wings twitching in irritation, and Jaewon takes a step back, pain flickering in his eyes. "Hyung, just..."

He trails off, pulling his lower lip between his teeth as his gaze drops to the floor. "Just... be careful."

"I always am," Dongho simply replies, reaching up to pat Jaewon's head. "You can head out, Jaewon-ah. I can handle it from here."

Jaewon's expression flickers for a moment, but he does as he's told.

Once Dongho's sure the younger angel's gone, he pulls the tiny key from his pocket and slips it into the lock, tongue peeking between his lips as he works the ancient metal open. It's _dark_ down here - so dark that his natural glow does little-to-nothing - and he growls as the key slips from the lock again, glaring down at the tiny piece of metal as if it's responsible for all the world's problems.

Finally, the door clicks open, and Dongho pushes it open, wincing at the loud creak it makes. "...hello?"

And _oh_.

A demon sits against the far wall, ankles chained to the floor and a metal band around his throat keeping him trapped to the wall. His dark hair pools around his legs, and as Dongho stares at him, his resolve turns from something dull into something _painfully_ sharp.

"...Demon King?"

* * *

_The first Fallen was never the best angel. He had his own ideas of justice, and as such, refused to listen to the Archangels and the punishments they handed down. He refused to punish other angels, refused to cast traitorous spirits into Hell, and, most damningly, chose to listen to the Demon King's story._

* * *

When Minsung next returns to consciousness, he's warm.

He's still scared, still aching, still in pain, but he's _warm_ , and that's _something_.

(something, after millions of years of nothing.)

"...you're awake."

Someone reaches up to brush a lock of hair out of his face, and _oh_ , Minsung distantly realizes, _it's been cut._

By who?

He forces his eyes open, only to immediately shut them at the _brightness_ of the creature in front of him. They glow with their own light, and _oh, this must be an angel_.

"...did you come to kill me?"

His voice is rough from disuse, and the syllables trip off his lips after decades of silence, but the angel hums disagreement.

"I'm here to help you."

"...why?"

"I haven't agreed with the Archangels for a long time," the angel replies, reaching up to straighten the blanket. "Not with their actions, decisions, or punishments. Especially not yours."

"Mmm..." Minsung sleepily hums, and the angel nods. "How... how long...?"

"A long time," the angel simply replies. "Too long to count."

Minsung should be worried by this, he knows. Should be worried by the fact that he's been away from home for who knows how long, should be worried over Hell, should be worried over his people and his friends and his family.

But he's tired, and he's warm, and thinking seems _so hard_ right now, so he closes his eyes, intent on drifting off.

And yet...

"...what's your name...?"

"Dongho," the angel murmurs, and Minsung relaxes as his hands fall to his sides. "Sleep well, Demon King."

"...Minsung," he mumbles, and the angel- and _Dongho_ hums once more.

"Minsung-ah, then. Sleep well, Minsung-ah."

* * *

_And after two millennia, the first Fallen helped the Demon King escape._

* * *

"Are you sure about this?"

Dongho nods, reaching out to adjust Minsung's hood. "Positive."

Minsung peers up at him from under the edge of his hood, eyes wide, and Dongho reaches up to pat his head, a small smile on his lips. "You want to go home, don't you?"

"Yeah, but..."

Minsung bites his lower lip, and Dongho gives him a wry little grin. "Don't worry about me, 'Sung. I'll be fine."

"I worry anyways," Minsung murmurs, reaching up to brush a lock of hair out of Dongho's face. "Comes with being a king."

"Can't be a king if you don't get back to your kingdom," Dongho reminds him, and Minsung winces, nails digging into his palms.

It's true, but that doesn't mean he wants to hear it.

Dongho's gaze softens, and he reaches up to pat Minsung's head once more, hand frigid even through the fabric. "You'll be alright, yeah? I know you will."

"..."

"I'll be alright," Dongho adds, "so just worry about yourself."

He slips something into Minsung's hand, and the demon shivers, Dongho's fingers sending chills through him despite the brief contact.

He's not sure if it's a love thing or an angel thing, but it's nice either way.

"You'll do great," Dongho murmurs, lips curling into a crooked little grin. "I know you will."

"I'll see you again," Minsung promises, and something in Dongho's eyes turns _sad sad sad_.

"I know you will. Now _go_. We're wasting time."

"I promise," Minsung adds before turning away, and he takes off at a dead sprint down the corridor, trying to ignore the way the angel's face is printed on the back of his eyelids.

He has to keep going.

Sirens blare, and other angels sprint past him, none of them paying him any heed even as he swerves down a corridor to the exit. He's grateful, but at the same time, terrified - what kind of distraction has Dongho made?

Well, whatever it is, it's definitely distracting, since he makes it to Hell's portal without issue.

He stares at the earth for a moment before flicking the portal on, and his eyes widen as a set of silver stairs spirals through the sky.

He's going home.

He's really going home.

He sprints down the stairs, gaze pinned on the distant ground, and _fuck_ , he's really going home, he's really going to see home again-

oh.

He skids to a stop halfway down, gaze pinned on the ground below, and _oh, god_.

Millions of souls toil in pitch-black fields, dozens of demons whipping them from behind. Hellfire fills the space, and the Demon King's castle has crumbled to ruins, scorched by flame and coated in soot.

Something in Minsung's chest dies, then, and the last remnants of hope are replaced with _bitter, bitter rage_.

His horns grow from nubs to great, curling ram horns as he sprints down the steps, and dark wings explode from his back, massive and leathery. He leaps off the stairway a quarter of the way down, _hate_ burning in his core, and as his feet touch the ground, the world explodes in flames.

* * *

_He was captured, and his wings were torn from his back as punishment._

* * *

"What have you _done_?"

The head Archangel stares down at him, and Dongho simply glares in response. "You've doomed us all, you _fool_!"

"I did the _right thing_."

Another angel pulls his wrist back further, and he winces, his joints protesting at the movement. 

He'd better get used to this, he thinks. 

"You can imprison me," he continues, trying to project his voice around the hall, "but you can't hide the _truth_. This - cherry-picking which souls are _perfect_ and sending the others to an eternity of torment, imprisoning the Demon King, running all of this with no room for objections - this is wrong!"

His gaze flits over the assembled crowd, but he finds no mercy. 

He didn't expect any, anyways.

"And you can't silence me," he continues, raising his head to stare at the Archangels once more. "Even in prison, you _can't stop me_. Because the truth _will_ win."

"Oh," the head Archangel states, and _is there a faint grin on his lips?_ "You're not going to prison."

What?

"Guards," the Archangel grins, "restrain him."

Dongho thrashes uselessly as the angels cuff his hands behind his back, and his panic only mounts as they grasp his wings, unfurling them to their full length.

No.

They wouldn't. Surely they wouldn't. 

Surely even the Archangels, cruel as they are, wouldn't. 

Right?

"Now," the Archangel states, and Dongho freezes as a hand presses between his wings, "give me the sword."

* * *

_The Archangels cast him into Hell, fully intending for his soul to be consumed by the rabid demons below, but before he hit the ground, the Demon King caught him instead._

* * *

There's something falling through the sky.

Minsung stares up at the distant speck of light, concern thrumming in the back of his mind. Not much could be coming down from Heaven, and certainly nothing that can't fly, so what...?

He squints, trying to force the thing into better resolution. It's not an angel, it's not trash, so-

_oh._

Oh, oh, he knows what this is now.

He takes off at a dead sprint, boots pounding against the soot-covered earth, and _fuck_ , how could he have been so blind? How could he have not seen this coming?

How could he have not seen this coming?

He kicks off against the earth, rocketing into the air, and Dongho falls into his chest, nearly knocking the pair of them to the ground. As it is, Minsung clings to the angel as tightly as he can, trying to ignore the deep red blood smearing over his hands, and he raises his head to stare into the sky, fury burning in his core.

How dare they?

How dare they- how dare they _strip Dongho of his wings?_

(it's not even all their fault. it's minsung's fault, too, and he knows it.)

His gaze falls back to the (former) angel in his arms, and he watches as a fleck of soot lands in his hair, a speck of black tainting shining gold.

Dongho can never be an angel again. 

Not after this.

But Minsung will be _damned_ if he can't give him back his wings.

(after all, isn't that the strength of selfishness? being able to say "fuck the world" in favor of keeping the person you love safe?)

* * *

_The Demon King wove him wings of darkness and gave him arrows of obsidian, turning him from an angel into something Other. Something Fallen._

* * *

Nobody's quite sure how long it takes.

All they know is that the Demon King carried a weakened, bloody angel into his castle one day, and the Fallen emerged another.

With hair black from soot, deep violet eyes, and pitch-black wings folded behind him, he certainly cast an imposing shadow. Someone loyal to the Demon King above all else, someone who fit in with his devoted servants, someone with a charred heart blackened from _hate_...

Nobody's quite sure what to call him, either.

That is to say, what to call him in relation to the Demon King.

After all, there's _something_ there. Something more than friends, more than charismatic leader and devoted follower. Some people have even dared to call it _love_.

But how can it be love?

After all, they're a fallen angel and a demon. There's no room for love there.

(some say they've seen the two of them alone together. seen the two of them standing in a back room while the fallen cups the demon king's face, dark-painted nails brushing tears off his cheeks. but, of course, they must be lying.

after all, hell has never been a place for love.)

But things are changing. Things are changing, and there's nobody but the Demon King to thank for that.

..perhaps this was how it was always meant to be, Kyunghun bitterly ruminates, watching as Minsung passes a piece of paper to Dongho. Perhaps Heaven and Hell can never exist without being at war.

After all, Minsung's father did this before him, and he lost.

But now that Minsung's fighting for revenge... well.

Selfishness has always been an incredible motivator, and now that the angels have taken _everything_ from Minsung, he has that in _spades_.

* * *

_..._

_Rumor has it that if an angel tears off their wings and casts themselves into hell, the first Fallen will catch them before they hit the ground and loosen one more obsidian arrow into Heaven's gates. As with all rumors, this has never been confirmed._

**Author's Note:**

> fic title from masterpiece theatre iii
> 
> or well. the original, "and the road home is paved in star fuckers' requiem" was, but i'm not allowed to have a fic title with the fuck word, so. it got changed to this hehe
> 
> leave a comment maybe? :D if you enjoyed of course!
> 
> [twit](https://twitter.com/i_was_human_) | [lit fic discord!](https://discord.gg/CNunB74)


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